


Metacarpus

by grizzly_bear_bane



Series: Cigar Box [6]
Category: Inception (2010)
Genre: Homelessness, Implied/Referenced Underage Prostitution, M/M, Underage Drug Use
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-03-19
Updated: 2014-03-19
Packaged: 2018-01-16 00:16:54
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Underage
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,670
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1324624
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/grizzly_bear_bane/pseuds/grizzly_bear_bane
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>There's something about Nash that makes Arthur uneasy, but that feeling's forgotten when Nash starts sharing his drugs with him.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Metacarpus

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_I want to,_  
 _I want to be someone else or I'll explode_  
 _Floating upon the surface for_  
 _The birds, the birds, the birds..._

          — Radiohead,  _Talk Show Host_

 

When Nash puts the pill on Arthur’s tongue, Arthur doesn’t know what it is, but once it’s in his system, he knows several, very key important things.

The first is that the pill feels like the coke Nash has been letting him sample, only without the nosebleeds and headaches. He knows that Nash has really, really great taste in music too, just like Eames does. He knows that he really, really wants to fuck Eames, after not wanting to be touched at all since Dom Cobb threw him to the wolves, which means that the return of this feeling is paramount, but Eames is still out helping Yusuf collect owed money, so he’ll have to wait to test those waters later. And lastly, he knows by judging the look on Nash’s face that he must be a really good dancer too.

Eames likes The Clash. Nash likes Radiohead. Arthur new likes Radiohead too. His body just moves to this particular song so perfectly in his haze, his arms out, his head lulled back, hips swaying, twirling slowly on bare feet.

But this pill does nothing to soothe his burning skin in the summer heat. Arthur knows that it has to be cooler outside, or in the backseat of some john’s air-conditioned car, than being cooped up in this rundown loft shithole with his babysitter.

He’s only known Nash for a handful of months since Yusuf let him and Eames squat in his flat. Nash has always just sort of...hung around. Appearing once Yusuf arrives with food and disappearing soon after, with whatever things he'd 'accidentally' stolen from Yusuf.

Arthur swears Nash looks more familiar, but he can never quite put his finger on it. Sometimes when Arthur's sober around him, his anxiety kicks up to an unbearable level and his stomach twists into a knot, kind of like the time a john pulled a gun on him, or how he felt seeing that cop’s patrol car in the early days. But why? Arthur can’t figure it out. Nash is a creep, sure, but his coke, and now this little pill, have been making Arthur feel good. They quiet the worst of his memories, his nightmares.

Nash sits against the wall and plays another song.

“When do you think Eames will be back,” Arthur asks, at last dancing out of his tanktop in an attempt to fight the heat.

“No clue,” Nash mutters, putting a strange skinny glass tube with a bulb shape on the end to his lips.

Arthur stops twirling to watch Nash run his lighter under the bulb, mesmerized by the glow and the thick white cloud of smoke that follows. "What's that?"

Nash exhales the white smoke, looking fondly at his pipe. "This is my girlfriend, Christina."

Arthur tilts his head, watching another smoke plum with fascination. “Can I have some?”

Nash snorts, his eyelids heavy. “No way. You’re too pretty for this shit.”

Arthur frowns, stepping closer as Nash puffs out another cloud. “Why not?”

Nash tries to glare. “Some shit’s just not for babies.”

“I’m not a baby.”

“True.” Nash licks his lips. “You’re old enough to fit a man between those legs. I guess you’re right.” He extends his hand, offering up the pipe.

But when Nash's glassy eyes travel up Arthur’s body, it makes the tiny hairs on the back of Arthur’s neck stand up. Arthur doesn’t come any closer. His voice cracks. “Never mind. I… I don’t want it.”

“Good. Just keep enjoying yourself 'til Eames gets back.”

Arthur likes the sound of that. He turns his back and pretends that he’s dancing with Eames. When the heat becomes unbearable, he pours some of the water from the plastic jug over his face and hair. It feels good running down his back so he pours a little on his legs and feet as well before swaying to the music again.

He doesn’t hear Nash get to his feet, so he startles a little when he turns and see him standing so close.

Nash has another pill pinched between his fingers. Arthur smiles and opens his mouth wide, ready for it, but Nash holds back.

“You’re still buzzing from the last one,” Nash mutters. “How do you feel?”

Arthur lets him feel his forehead and neck, but moves a little away when his thumb touches his lips. “I’m hot.”

“Oh, then you don’t need another one of these.” He turns to sit back down.

“Wait, hang on, please?” He quickly takes his hand off of Nash's arm.

Nash smirks. “Okay.” When Arthur opens his mouth for the pill, Nash still won’t give it to him. “But what do I get, then?”

Arthur steps back when Nash touches his nipple, but he doesn’t go far with Nash’s finger holding on to the drawstring on his shorts. He watches Nash pull the knot out of the string, loosening the shorts before he places the pill on Arthur’s lips.

Nash smiles. “Eames is such a fucking perv for letting you wear these,” he says, running his fingers over the band of the superhero underwear he sees peeking out from under his shorts. “He never struck me as the type to wander around high school parking lots looking for jailbait, but…” He shrugs.

It’ll take a while for this pill to kick in, but the last one still has him floating pleasantly high. He hasn’t tricked in months. Really, he hasn’t had a john since he met Eames. It makes him nervous. He knows Nash enough to have to see him nearly everyday. He’s not sure his brain can handle that. “Wait.”

Nash hushes him, swaying with him to the rhythm of the music. “It’ll be okay, just don’t tell Eames.”

“Why not?” He watches Nash pull his shorts and underwear down. He shivers when his back touches the concrete floor.

“Because,” he mutters into Arthur’s neck, “he’ll kill me, and then where would you get my little gifts?”

He has to think about that for a little while, his gaze stuck on the mildew spotting the cracked ceiling. “Yusuf?”

“No way. Eames would never let him. And Yusuf’s not letting anybody near his shit for free, the selfish prick.”

“Oh… okay then.” Even with the drug in his system, Nash’s hands and mouth on him is not a good feeling. He groans, cringing away, swallowing his nausea. “I don’t know if I want to do this, Nash.” He hates the dread that fills him. It crashes like a tsunami straight through his buzz, wiping out his high. For a second, he feels like he never left that room in that flat, like his wrists are still bound to the bed. He quickly wipes at his eyes.

“Hey, hey.” Nash quickly sits him up and rubs his shoulders, looking nervous. “You okay? Look, Arthur, the last thing I need is Eames thinking I did something and him coming after me. Fuck. Okay, okay, get dressed.”

“I’m sorry.”

“It’s fine, it’s fine. Whatever, just stop crying before he gets back.”

Arthur quickly slips back into all his clothes and gets to his feet. Just in the nick of time too. Eames startles them when he bursts through the door. He can't imagine what would have happened if he was still naked on the floor. Nothing good, he's sure.

“Hey,” Arthur speaks up first, twisting his hands in the bottom of his tanktop anxiously.

Eames stops short, seeing Arthur looking miserable, standing awkwardly close to Nash with the drawstring to his shorts untied. When he gets closer to Arthur, he can see that his cheeks are wet and his pupils are dilated. He growls.

“Eames, no!” Arthur grabs Eames’ arm when Eames gets Nash by the collar. He's too late. Eames' fist hits Nash's face hard enough to knock a sober man unconscious, but Nash just sway in Eames' hold. “Come on, Eames. Don’t.”

“Hey, hey," Nash slurs, his lips bleeding. "Relax, alright. I only gave him one pill. I don't know nothing else.” Nash holds up his hands in surrender. "That's it, man."

Eames leans in close to Nash’s face. “Never again, understand? You give him anymore of this shit and you’re done, you fucking rat.” He spots Nash’s meth pipe setting on the floor. His expression is enough to scare even Nash this time.

“Eames?” Arthur carefully pats his arm until Eames lets Nash's collar go. He’s not exactly sure what to say now that he's got Eames’ attention. He steps back quickly, but Eames still catches his hand, leading him a little away from other man.

His voice is soft and soothing in Arthur’s ear. “Arthur, do not take anything else he gives you.”

“But it was just a little th—”

“Arthur,” he says sternly, glancing at Nash. “Listen to me. After everything we’ve been through,” he glances away again, clearing his throat. He squeezes Arthur’s hand. “We can’t trust anyone, except each other, alright? I can't let you get hurt again. I know that getting high feels good, but it’s easy to get yourself hooked to this kind of hard shit. That’s why they call people like Nash trappers, because that’s exactly what they do. Promise me, okay?”

“Okay. I promise.” It’ll be a piece of cake. 

But then… when Eames heads for the door, Arthur’s slow to follow. Nash stumbles up to him quietly. Taking Arthur’s arm, Nash slips a little bag of coke into the back of Arthur’s underwear while Eames’ back is turned and whispers, "You owe me. Don't forget that," in his ear.

“Come on, Arthur,” Eames calls. “Say good bye so we can go upstairs.”

Arthur says nothing as he follows Eames out. He glances back over his shoulder at Nash, who winks and sits back on the floor to smoke more of his pipe, his mouth still painted with red.

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**End.**

 

**Author's Note:**

> For more drabble requests, questions, inspiration pics, and updates for this fic series, go to grizzly-bear-bane.tumblr.com/


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